


often

by caramelcaramelcaramel



Series: spicy content [1]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Casual Sex, Dancing, Dom Peter Parker, Dom/sub Undertones, Drunk Sex, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Hook-Up, One Shot, POV Michelle Jones, Party, Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Smut, Sub Michelle Jones, no bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:13:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,043
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25043698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caramelcaramelcaramel/pseuds/caramelcaramelcaramel
Summary: Peter and MJ have an established...arrangement.When finals end, what better way could there be to relieve some stress?this oneshot was decided by a google form! you can find it, and much more,here! feel free to vote, it'll be open indefinitely!
Relationships: Betty Brant & Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Betty Brant/Ned Leeds, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Series: spicy content [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813741
Comments: 4
Kudos: 77





	often

**Author's Note:**

> buckle in, kiddos, and get ready for 8 pages of smut and a lil bit of pining  
> (also this wasn't really beta read, so excuse any typos sorry!)

“No, no no,” I said, grabbing the bottle of vodka from Betty before she could bring it to her lips. “You told me to cut you off after five drinks, remember? You’ve had six.”

“Shut up ‘n’ have fun!” Betty whined, reaching for the vodka again.

I side-stepped her reach and tipped my head back, waterfalling about three ounces before the taste registered and I had to stop. “Careful what you wish for,” I told her, wiping the corner of my mouth and setting the bottle back on the counter.

Before she could reach for it again, I grabbed her hand and led her towards the dance floor.

“When are Ned and Peter getting here?” she asked, her voice still whiny.

“I don’t know, Bets,” I answered. “Stop thinking about them and let’s just dance! We made it through finals! Relax!”

I had to shout louder and louder as we approached the dance floor, but thankfully my message got across, Betty giving up on asking about the boys and just dancing with me.

We danced up against each other, and I relaxed as the vodka made its way to my head. I was at that comfortable level of drunkenness where I was relaxed and bubbly and having fun and just uninhibited enough to dance without caring about anybody watching me. And I was thankful this was Liz’s house, and that she was sober tonight, so nothing sus was going to happen.

It was one of the few times I could party with reckless abandon. Usually I was too anxious to drink, to let my guard down, but this was safe, and I was happy to have the chance to let loose.

Especially since my last final was earlier today, and I’d been stressed out of my mind for the last few weeks.

“Ned!”

I turned just in time to see Betty made a break for it, running from the dance floor to the foyer and jumping to Ned’s arms. He caught her, arms around her waist, stepping back to absorb some of her momentum.

I made my way over as Peter sulked playfully. “Love you, too, Betty.”

She was too absorbed in Ned to care. In her defence, it’d been a whole two (2) weeks since they’d been able to hang out. That was a year in Ned/Betty time.

“How was your last exam?” I asked Peter, trying to keep my voice level. It didn’t work.

He broke out in a smile. “How drunk are you?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” I countered.

“Oh, yeah? So you could walk a straight line right now?”

“Absolutely. But I don’t have to prove it to you, because you’re not the police.”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, lead the way. I need about a bottle of tequila tonight.”

Scrunching my nose, I said, “So the exam didn’t go well?”

“No, it did, but only because I didn’t sleep for seventy-two hours before it. Took a quick nap when I got home, and now here I am.”

I turned the implications of that over in my head. We’d had out…arrangement…for a few months now, and I was kind of hoping to capitalize on it tonight. Relieve some stress, you know? But if he was that tired, I was likely out of luck.

I slipped my hand into his anyways, leading him towards Liz’s kitchen, and made him the usual cocktail I always did. Double the alcohol I’d put in anyone else’s drink, because his spidey-metabolism made it harder for him to get drunk. I added a little more tonight.

As I poured juice into the red cup, he leaned over the kitchen island. “It’s kind of funny, isn’t it?”

“What is?”

“Partying at Liz’s again. Kind of a full circle moment.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re so sentitemal. No, wait, semitemtal-”

“Sentimental?”

“That’s the one.” I handed him his drink. “See, this is the level of fucked up you need to get to.”

He raised the cup a little. “And this’ll get me there way too quickly, I’m assuming.”

“As long as you chug.”

He grinned, taking the bait, and I watched as he drank the whole thing, Adam’s apple bopping with every gulp.

He really was hot. It was kind of unfair that he wasn’t gonna be in the mood tonight.

I saw Ned and Betty making their way to the dance floor out of the corner of my eye, and looked over just in time to see Ned pick her up and spin before setting her down again.

There was a familiar pang in my chest. A _this could be me and Peter but I’m too scared to tell him I want anymore more than casual sex_ pang.

“You wanna dance?” Peter gasped, setting down the cup.

I nodded, and we made our way over, dancing through the crowd to get to the middle, where we could dance right up against each other without Ned or Betty seeing.

They didn’t know about our little arrangement, and they didn’t need to find out now.

The dancing started off innocently enough, but then Beyoncé came on, and we ended up pressed up against each other.

“I think you got me pretty drunk,” Peter slurred into my ear, hands travelling from my waist down to my hips.

“I think I’m tired of dancing,” I responded, turning to face him and sliding my arms over his shoulders to wrap around his neck. “I was planning on crashing here anyways.”

He grinned.

“Upstairs, down the hall, fourth door on the right. Meet me up there in five.”

He nodded, and I broke away, heading upstairs.

I’d crashed in this room more times than I could count, to the point where Liz kept a spare toothbrush and a pack of makeup wipes in the adjoined bathroom.

I’d tucked a bulk pack of nips in the back of the closet, so I dug those out. Mini Jack, or Mini Fireball? What was I feeling?

I left the Jack on the nightstand for Peter, and downed the Fireball, coughing as it burned all the way down my throat. I could feel the bass from the music in the floor, and it made me dizzier than the multiple drinks were on their own.

Peter walked in a moment later. “Sorry, I had to shake Ned.”

“It’s alright. Jack?”

“Please.”

I handed him the shooter, and he downed the whole thing, and then pulled me in and kissed me.

I did what I always did. I pretended it was more than just a kiss.

Pressing my body against his and tilting my head, I deepened the kiss, lips parting enough to allow for a bit of tongue.

He was warm, probably from the alcohol. His fingers left hot trails against my skin as they brushed over me, his hands travelling from my upper arms to my face, cupping my cheeks and sliding into my hair.

I lost my breath every time he did that. It was my kryptonite.

My hands went to the hem of his sweater, lifting it up. He broke the kiss to grab the sweater at the nape of his neck and pull it off. I pulled my top off at the same time, impatient and unwilling to wait for him to undress me.

“Em.” His voice was barely a breath as he pulled me into another kiss. I couldn’t keep my balance, and we both fell back onto the bed, giggling. I took the opportunity to climb on top of him. The warm lighting did him justice, as always, emphasizing the sweetness in his features. It softened him, from Spider-Man or my fuckbuddy, into my friend, into the man I’d fallen for years ago. His hands were on my hips, over my jeans, and then moved up, over my waist, and bare back.

I leaned down and kissed him again, needing him in a way I couldn’t explain, I could only chase it.

He was a better chaser than any juice Liz had handed me at a bar.

My lips left his in favour of tracing along his jawline, down the slope of his neck, over his chest and stomach.

I was thankful for our distance from Liz’s speakers, because I could just barely hear Peter’s laboured breathing over the muffled music.

My fingers seemed to undo his belt on pure muscle memory, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans surprisingly deftly, considering how drunk I was. I pulled his pants and boxers down, just enough to let his cock spring free, tip already glistening with the start of pre-cum. I licked my hand and wrapped around the base of his dick, pumping slowly. I started licking and sucking on his balls, with increasing speed and intensity until he moaned.

Peter had the softest moans of anybody I’d ever fucked. They were breathy and low, always accompanied by closed eyes and parted lips. Every time I heard him moan, I’d feel my pulse travel lower. It was the ultimate turn on.

My mouth left his balls to lick a stripe up the base of his dick, before taking his whole length in my mouth. He moaned again, hands finding their way into my hair. I bobbed up and down, my hand now massaging his balls gently.

Six months of this and I’d perfected the art of giving Peter his ideal blowjob.

I pressed my tongue down in my mouth, forcing more saliva, and then licked along the underside of his cock a few times before taking him into my mouth again.

“Oh my _god_ , MJ.”

I lived for that reaction.

I kept sucking his dick for another couple of minutes, alternating between wet licks and bobbing up and down, before he pulled at my hair, pulling me off his dick.

“So-so good,” he panted, “but just…just-”

“You don’t wanna cum?” I asked.

He shook his head, and pulled me up to kiss him, flipping me over the second he could. I gasped as my back hit the mattress, and moaned softly as his lips made their way down my neck.

“I missed you,” he admitted softly between kisses.

“Me too.”

He kissed over my bare chest, sliding his tongue over my nipples, never staying on one spot long enough. A free hand slid down my stomach and under the waistband of my jeans, pressing against the thin cotton of my underwear. I moaned again, cupping his face and pulling gently until he gave in and kissed me, his fingers still rubbing against me.

I fumbled to unbutton my jeans while he still had his hand down them, but I needed more. Everything in my head was cloudy except for that. I needed him.

He pushed my underwear aside as I struggled to push my jeans down without shifting to much, and the sensation of his fingers dipping into my slickness and then tracing light circles around my clit made my whole body tremble. I fell still, too distracted by his fingers to care about getting my jeans off. His lips were soft and warm against mine, his fingers were taking my breath away, and the Fireball was starting to hit me hard.

“Mm, Peter,” I mumbled against his lips.

“Yeah?”

I couldn’t find the words, so I grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand against me. He smiled into the kiss, and pushed two fingers into me. I let out a whine, and could feel the smugness radiating off of him.

 _Dick_.

His fingers curled, pumping in and out, toying with my g-spot. I found myself moving my hips in rhythm with his fingers, desperate for _more_.

“You like that?” he asked softly.

“Uh-huh.”

He quickened the pace, eliciting a drawn-out moan. “Yeah?”

I reached between us, fingers wrapping around him and pumping as well as I could, given the angle. He dropped his head onto my shoulder as my thumb rubbed circles into the tip.

“You like that?” I asked, just to tease him.

He pulled away, fingers sliding out of me, and I bit back a disappointed moan. He tugged my jeans and underwear off, pulled off his own bottoms, and grabbed my legs, pulling me until my ass was on the edge of the bed.

I grinned. Teasing him always worked like a charm.

He fumbled for his jeans and pulled a foil wrapper out of them, tearing it open and rolling the condom on, and then turned his attention back to me. He grabbed my ankles, lifting them onto his shoulders, and rubbed the tip of his cock against my clit.

I let myself relax. I knew this Peter. He needed control tonight, and I was more than happy to give it to him.

He pushed in, slowly, both of us moaning softly. And _fuck_ , he felt so good.

“Peter,” I whined. I wanted to wrap my legs around to pull him in deeper, but I couldn’t because they were up on his shoulders and he was holding them there as he pushed in. “Peter, _please_.”

“Shit, Em.”

He pushed all the way in, and leaned forward, catching my lips in a kiss.

His hips started to move, slowly, and I squeezed around him, just to hear his moan against my mouth.

He was _intoxicating_.

His thrusts were slow but determined, and he was still leaning over me, forearms bracing himself on the mattress, nose-to-nose with me.

“Faster,” I pleaded, burying one hand in his curls, the other one resting just below it on his neck.

“Yeah?” His voice was barely a breath.

I nodded, and he obliged, strokes speeding up. They were still too gentle, but for now, they were enough.

I pulled him into a kiss. Because, you know, fuck it. I only got to kiss him when we were hooking up, and there was no way I wasn’t going to take advantage of that.

His mouth was warm and his lips were soft, and I found myself moaning into his mouth, and holding him closer.

“Harder.”

“You’re sure?” he asked.

“You always ask that,” I complained, “and I always love it.”

He sighed, and pushed himself back up, standing and grabbing my hips.

And he started to _pound_ me. And I mean gut-rearranging, cervix-busting, pounding. He was no fucking around.

Well, he was, technically, but he wasn’t.

Every thrust pushed a high-pitched, desperate moan out of me.

“Peter,” I gasped, “harder.”

“Em-”

“ _Harder_ ,” I insisted.

He angled his hips up, and sped up his strokes, hitting my g-spot with every thrust.

I slipped one hand between us, rubbing my clit desperately, my movements stuttered as I got closer and closer.

He thrust especially hard, dick driving straight into my g-spot, and I cried out, back arching.

“You like that?” he asked, sounding smug.

“Keep- don’t stop- _please_ -”

He kept up the pace, angle, force, everything, and I started to tip over the edge.

“MJ,” he panted, and that was it. Something about his voice was so hot that…

 _Crash_.

I gathered the blankets in my fists, my back arched, and I started to cry out. Peter covered my mouth, muffling me before I got too loud.

He kept going, only slowing when I began to settle.

I sighed, finally recovering, and began to catch my breath. Peter pulled out, and let my legs down so he could step away to take off the condom. Once he’d tossed it in the trash, he came back over and kissed me. I hummed a little against his lips.

And then his lips travelled down to my neck, kissing under my ear, and down my jugular.

Part of me wanted to ask what he was doing, part of me just wanted to lay back and let him do whatever. It’s not like I wasn’t enjoying it, and if I asked, he’d stop, and I didn’t really want that.

He kissed down my chest, over my stomach, and then kneeled at the edge of the bed, nudging my legs apart.

I wasn’t sure if my body could physically handle another orgasm, or if I’d just have a heart attack, but honestly, was death by great sex all that bad?

He kissed along my inner thighs, and then licked a wide stripe from my entrance to my clit.

My whole body trembled.

His tongue slid over my clit, slowly, teasingly, drawing out a slow moan. And then he suckled, and I gasped, back arching for a second.

“Peter-”

He suckled harder, cutting me off. My body began to tense, and I didn’t want to cum just yet, but he felt _so_ good and I didn’t think I could really avoid it.

“Don’t st- _ah!_ ”

I think I blacked out, to be honest. I don’t know if I closed my eyes or my vision cut out, if the music was turned off or if my ears were offline, nothing. All I knew was that I was practically seizing as I came, hard, hands in Peter’s hair and pulling at his curls.

He pulled away as the orgasm died, and kissed my stomach again.

“How was that?” he asked, barely audible over the ringing in my ears.

I nodded, still catching my breath. He kissed me gently, brushing some stray hair out of my face, and then got off of me.

I started to come down from the high of sex with Peter, and remembered how this was about to end. He’d leave, and I’d lay in bed alone, missing him, wishing I’d been brave enough to say something.

That thought alone was sobering enough to force me to sit up and start to gather my clothes.

I could hear Peter in the bathroom, flushing the toilet and washing his hands.

My heart sank. Party’s over.

I pulled my clothes on, and left the room, making my way back down the hallways with shaky legs.

“MJ! There you are!” Ned said, coming up the stairs.

 _Oh, no_.

“Have you seen Peter?”

I hesitated. “Um…”

The click of the door handle turning was audible, even from here, and Peter’s voice came before I saw his head peak out from around the doorframe. “Hey, uh, you fo- Ned!”

I turned back to Ned and saw the gears turning in his head.

“What the f-”

**Author's Note:**

> this is the first of (probably) many spicy oneshots! not all of the spicy oneshots I write will end up on my ao3. some of them will end up exclusively on my second, password-protected tumblr. you can obtain that password by buying me a coffee. all of those links, along with my social channels, rec list, commission info, etc [here](https://caramelcaramelcaramel.carrd.co/)!


End file.
